


A Little Bit of Poe

by ahrupe



Category: Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 06:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10588764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahrupe/pseuds/ahrupe
Summary: Lin is good at a lot of things, but being sick is not one of them.





	

Lin was terrible at being sick. He had been trying to hide it from you for the past few days, but you weren't that thick. You awoke to the sound of him drumming on every surface he could reach, trying to figure out a beat. Armed with a thermometer, you entered the living room. His hair was getting long, and it fell around his face in a way that you found oddly attractive, since he usually kept it short. Bits of paper were strewn around him, littering the floor where the garbage can used to be. He had turned it upside down and was using it as a drum.   
"Lin," you called. He stopped, setting down his makeshift drumsticks.   
"I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"  
"Yeah. What are you doing awake so early?"  
"Inspiration can strike at the strangest of times, Y/N."  
You shook your head. "I don't know if I would call it inspiration- more like a fever dream."  
Lin's brows furrowed. "I'm dreaming?"  
"Mhm." You put the thermometer under his tongue, rubbing his back to keep him still. It beeped. 102 degrees.   
"You're staying in today."  
He nodded, turning back to his notebook. "You're probably right. I really need to finish this song."  
You sighed, gently taking the pencils out of his hand and leading him back towards the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway, pointing an accusing finger at you.   
"Wait- my dreams are always in Spanish. You tricked me!"  
"Sure sweetie, I tricked you." You shoved him down onto the bed, tucking him under the covers and wrapping your arms around him so he couldn't move.  
"So rough," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Even when he was sick he couldn't turn it off.   
"You are really hot," you muttered, placing your hand on his forehead.   
"You know it."  
"Shut up and go to sleep, dork."

When you were sure he had fallen asleep, you pulled out your phone and called in sick to work. Lin grunted and turned over, his face red. You knew he would sweat it out in a few hours like he usually did, but it was never fun to watch the person you loved suffer.   
Lin worked himself too hard. You loved the dark circles under his eyes as much as the next person, but he needed to take a fucking break every once in a while. It was a source of contention in your relationship, and you hated that it often ended in him getting sick. 

You woke from your nap around noon, Lin’s legs tangled in yours. His fever had broken, and you kissed his temple in relief. He opened his eyes just a crack.  
“How are you feeling?”  
He stretched, shutting his eyes again. “Kind of gross, actually. But less sick.”  
“Good. Because we need to shower.” You hopped out of bed and started up the water, Lin following behind you slowly. He really was feeling better, you thought, as you felt his hand cup your ass when he stepped under the showerhead with you.  
“How do you handle it?” he asked quietly.  
You knew what he meant, but shrugged. “I love you and want you to get better, so I do what needs to be done, I guess. You do the same for me.”   
Lin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you’re cute when you’re sick.”   
You gestured for him to turn around, scratching his scalp as you massaged shampoo down to the ends of his hair. “I think you’re lying, but it’s kind of you to say.”  
“You are! It’s unfair. You roll up like a burrito and lay in my lap while we watch TV. You never complain, like I do, or refuse help, like I do.”  
Starting on conditioner, you sighed. “I wish you would let me help more often.”  
He turned to face you. “From now on I will. I don’t like feeling like this, and you definitely know better.”  
You wanted to believe him.

You had grilled cheese and tomato soup waiting once Lin had on a fresh pair of pajamas. He looked surprised at your speed, but you had had everything ready to go in the fridge for a while, just waiting for the day he got sick enough to listen to you. He was pretty predictable.  
He looked at you like you were some sort of angel when you set his plate down.  
"How did you know?"  
“When you’re sick your writing starts to look like it came from Edgar Allen Poe,” you deadpanned, deciding not to spare his feelings.  
“It does not!” Lin scoffed. You grabbed a stray piece of paper and handed it to him, not even needing to read it to know that you were right.   
His eyes widened. “What the fuck?”  
“It’s super weird,” you laughed, taking a bite of your sandwich, “when you’re drunk, it’s Chaucer. I have no idea why.”  
“I always thought you were psychic.” He raised his sandwich in a mock toast, tapping it against yours.  
“With you I am.”


End file.
